Part 11

In regard to his dramatic music, I must not forget, after having pointed out its shortcomings, to make an important statement, giving him credit for the progress which is unquestionably due him. I refer to the transformation which he has brought about in the recitative, beginning with his _Elisabetta_. Until then he had not risen above _Tancredi_, a charming score, but one in which his methods scarcely differed from those employed by the musicians of his time, Mayr, Generali, Paër and others. Undoubtedly his harmony was fuller, his instrumentation richer, more varied and more brilliant than that of these artists, but the progress stopped there. With _Elisabetta_, his first work given at Naples, Rossini started an important reform. Up to that time the Italian composers had employed almost exclusively the _recitativo secco_, that is to say, a recitative accompanied solely by the clavichord, with a continuous bass by the violoncello in the orchestra. Now these thin and meagre recitatives, often much developed, weakened the scenic effect, killed all musical interest, and formed too violent a contrast with the general style of the work. It was only in exceptional cases that the composers allowed themselves some measures of _recitativo strumentato_, to serve as an introduction to an important piece.

Rossini, in his _Elisabetta_, was the first to treat all the recitative part as a grand lyric declamation, and to sustain that precise, vigorous, very rhythmic declamation with a melodic accompaniment, arranged for the full orchestra. Thanks to this means, the scenic action was considerably developed, the musical interest was sustained from beginning to end, without break or sign of weakness, the work gained a homogeneity and a general color hitherto unknown; finally, the composer experienced the advantage of being able to bind together, as strongly as need be, incidents, situations, episodes which otherwise would have been chilled by the untimely presence of those _recitativi secchi_, the crying evil of the serious operas. Certainly this is a trait of genius, which classes Rossini in the rank of the happiest of innovators.

When, fifteen years after having given his _Elisabetta_ at Naples, he wrote _William Tell_ for the Paris Opéra, people were able to judge of the incomparable grandeur of his dramatic genius. Here were no concessions to a perverted taste, no ill-timed vocal effects, no weakness of style, no negligence in the form; but a grand inspiration, a bold and noble accent, heroic outbursts, a color marvellously appropriate to the subject, and above all the sincerity of an artist of genius desiring to create a masterpiece.

A study of Rossini would be incomplete, which did not consider the influence which that great man exercised over the artists of his time. It is with some reflections on this subject that I am going to close the present work.

An abundance of melody, precision of rhythm, richness of instrumentation, untiring verve, movement, color and life, such are the distinctive signs of Rossini's musical personality. Moreover, this personality was so powerful, so exuberant, so magnetic, that it not only effaced that of his contemporaries, who were unable to struggle against this colossus, but it soon absorbed that of all the young composers who were coming after him, and who, gifted by nature with less generosity, were appropriating his methods, as far as possible, and making themselves his servile imitators. With the exception of Bellini and Donizetti, whose natural temperament and personal gifts were safeguards against this rage of imitation, one may say that for half a century all the Italian composers applied themselves to writing music _a la Rossini_, and seemed preoccupied solely with reproducing effects and combinations originated by the young master. Pacini, for example, wrote eighty operas in the Rossinian style, not one of which was worthy to pass down to posterity; and the Ricci brothers, though more gifted than Pacini as regards a freshness of inspiration, also imitated Rossini too closely, and allowed some little of their own personality to appear only in the pleasant, merry score of _Crispino e la Comare_, their one work which has gained recognition outside of Italy. Furthermore, these Italian imitators of Rossini, not knowing how to separate the tares from the wheat, followed exactly in his footsteps, and reproduced his faults as conscientiously as his virtues, mistaking noise for sonority, sadly abusing the flowery style, even in the most pathetic moments, to the great detriment of dramatic truth (Mercadante himself has not escaped this fault), and unhappily not having, like their model, that wonderful gift of melody for which certain of his faults could be pardoned, and which constituted a good part of his power.

The flagrant imitation of Rossinian forms by the fellow-artists of the master clearly indicated their inferiority, at the same time that it demonstrated his absorbing influence. In France also where the Théâtre-Italien, brilliant with its splendid array of illustrious singers, had early made known the most important of Rossini's works, this influence made itself felt to a considerable extent, but less completely, and with more discernment, our musicians merely drawing profit from the progress made by the author of _il Barbiere_ and _Semiramide_, without permitting themselves to abandon in his favor their own personality. It was easy to recognize the trace of this influence in certain of Boieldieu's scores, in Auber's manner, nay, even in that of Herold, an artist of strong and eclectic temperament, whose own originality never failed him for an instant, while accepting up to a certain point a reflection from Weber on the one hand, on the other Rossini, whom he had been able to study for a long time in his own country. But the French musicians had as a safeguard against servility to the latter artist, that innate sentiment of dramatic truth which formed part of the genius of their country and which did not permit them to sacrifice anything to the exact expression of that truth. Besides, the great artists of whom I speak here had a personal worth which put them quite beyond the thought of slavery or of too great submission to any artist whatever. Nevertheless, I repeat that Rossini's influence over the French artists was very considerable, and I add that it was happy and beneficial because it was limited to making them profit by methods and discoveries, the use of which, joined to their natural gifts and qualifications, could only enrich the latter and increase the domain of art.

In closing I would say briefly that for half a century Rossini's genius has shed its radiance over entire Europe, and that that radiance seemed to eclipse everything around him. After having reigned master of the art in his own country for fifteen years, he increased his influence still more by his contact with France, and it was in France, whose temperament, full of taste, eclecticism and reason, he knew so marvellously, that he wrote his most magnificent masterpiece, _William Tell_, before which all his former works pale, with the exception of _The Barber of Seville_. If _The Barber_ is the imperishable and prodigious model of opera bouffe, _William Tell_ is the most touching, the most striking dramatic poem which ever flowed from his pen. Either would suffice for his glory, and both assign to him a unique and quite exceptional place in the history of musical art in the nineteenth century.

VINCENZO BELLINI

Toward the end of the last century there came to the pleasant and prosperous city of Catania, in Sicily, a musician named Vincenzo Bellini. He had a large family, and his eldest son, Rosario, followed the family profession as a teacher and church organist. Rosario married young, and on the 1st of November, 1801, his first child was born and was named Vincenzo, for his grandfather. The usual stories of precocious talent are attributed to this boy, but the fact remains that he showed from his childhood a strongly musical disposition, and that his talent was so well cultivated by his father and grandfather that he could play the piano passably when five years old, and at six wrote some small religious settings. As he grew the artistic temperament manifested itself strongly, both in efforts to follow professional lines, and in the fitful moodiness characteristic of such natures.

It was soon evident that the boy had obtained all that Catania could give him. His father had not the means to provide properly for him, and consequently he petitioned the municipality to send Vincenzo to Naples. The royal intendant received the petition favorably, and an annual allowance was granted in May, 1819.

On leaving Sicily, Bellini took excellent letters of recommendation to persons of consequence in Naples, and particularly to Nicolo Zingarelli, who was the director of the Conservatory. For two years he was taught by Giacomo di Tritto, then an old man, but still famous not only for his own able compositions, but also for his training of his students. Then he passed on to Zingarelli, under whom his progress was so notable that he was promoted to the honorable position of first assistant master. Yet, as his after life proved, this progress was due more to the natural expansion of his powers than to any steady and systematic use of them.

During this period, Bellini wrote a good many things, of which nothing is now heard, because they were done perfunctorily, and belonged to such classes of composition as did not suit his genius.

Nevertheless, his individuality and its peculiar bent could not be altogether hidden, and he more than once provoked the angry censure of Zingarelli, who could not abide innovations, and who went so far as to say that if this rebelliously independent pupil persisted in writing the opera which he purposed, he must do it unaided. The youth kept on, and soon finished his music for "Adelson e Salvini," the text being an old libretto of Fioravanti. This opera, performed by fellow-pupils on the Conservatory stage, gave some hints of original talent, but as a whole it left such an impression that its author indorsed it, "A poor mess." This was in 1825, and the failure was balanced by the success of a cantata entitled "Ismene," which Bellini wrote for a royal festival in San Carlo.

From that night dates his course of almost unbroken success. The famous Barbaja was managing San Carlo, and, moved by his own faith and the urgency of patrons, he gave Bellini a commission. Desirous to complete this in another atmosphere, and to fly from scenes which were painfully associated with his affection for a girl who had been refused to him by her parents, Bellini went to Catania, and returning, brought "Bianca e Gernando," which was performed in May, 1826, by a splendid cast. The writing was unequal, and some of the critical thought they felt the hand of Zingarelli in its best pages. It had a fair success, nevertheless, and Bellini received the handsome amount of three hundred ducats, besides the bright assurance of a prosperous future.

Barbaja was the _impresario_ of La Scala, at Milan, also, and with his accustomed shrewdness he promptly engaged Bellini to write an opera for that stage. To Milan accordingly the young composer went. Here he associated himself with Felice Romani, the most famous Italian librettist, who, whatever may be said of his style, understood dramatic and lyrical effects, and was now at the height of his ability and reputation.

The first result of this union was "Il Pirata," produced at La Scala, Oct. 27, 1827, with a cast including Rubini, Tamburini, and Mme. Méric-Lalande. Bellini bore his new honors modestly, and with more of hope than triumph. Soon Vienna had indorsed the verdict of Milan, and the composer's fame was now not Italian, but European.

Competition for Bellini's services soon began. The Carlo Felice, at Genoa, was about to open, and its manager asked for Bellini's next opera. This--"La Straniera"--was already bespoken, and the Genoese therefore offered eight thousand francs to reproduce "Bianca e Gernando," provided the author would revise it. The sum was tempting, and in April, 1828, the public applauded this reformed edition.

"La Straniera" cost its authors much trouble, for there were situations which poet and musician could not see and feel alike; but at last their spirits harmonized, and on Feb. 14, 1829, this opera met a magnificent reception at La Scala. A richer, more varied, and deeper talent was there shown than in any preceding work, and the proud Catanians caused an honorary medal to be struck in commemoration of it.

Now Parma offered Bellini a remunerative commission, which he accepted, and went thither to prepare his work. He began badly, for he declined the collaboration of a favorite local writer, in order not to separate himself from Romani. The latter's libretto, "Zaira," was poor, and Bellini was not in good vein. All things worked together for ill; so the opera, produced in 1829, was a failure, and only a couple of extracts from it remain.

The other operas were doing so well as to console him for this mortification, and he went from city to city to prepare them for presentation. Venice begged something new for La Fenice; and Bellini, reverting to an early admiration for the story of "Romeo and Juliet," accepted from Romani, "I Capuletti ed i Montecchi," which was given in March, 1830, Grisi making one of the cast, and such parts of "Zaira" as were worth saving being wrought into the score. Success attained the height of a popular ovation, and Francis I., of Naples, sent Bellini the medal of Civil Merit, while he, in turn, dedicated his work in grateful terms to his fellow-citizens of Catania.

But Milan, jealous of the attentions heaped by other cities upon her favorite composer, insisted on his return. Scarcely had he arrived when he was seized with an intestinal disorder which brought him to death's door. But youth, care, and skill saved him, and he began at once his new score, destined for the Carcano, which had a fine company and repertory, and was fairly rivalling La Scala. This score was "La Sonnambula," the libretto of which Romani had founded on a comedietta by Scribe. Bellini was anxious to excel himself, for the leading singers were none other than Pasta and Rubini. The conditions were favorable, for the fascinating and profitable society of these artists and especially of la Pasta, influenced and stimulated his genius. On March 6, 1831, "La Sonnambula" was produced and began that triumphant success which shows small sign of waning.

The management of La Scala at once made Bellini an offer for his next work, among the tempting conditions being the payment of three thousand ducats, and for his interpreters, Pasta, Grisi, Donzelli, and Negrini. The libretto was just after Bellini's own heart, the writing was rapidly accomplished, and on Dec. 26, 1831, only some nine months after the production of "La Sonnambula," "Norma" was sung for the first time on the stage of La Scala. Strangely as it seems now, the opera was almost a failure. The theme was larger and nobler than any which Bellini had treated, and he had risen to its height, leaving behind his light, familiar style, and assuming a breadth and strength of diction in which his admirers did not recognize him. Bellini was astonished and disappointed, but after a few performances a great and deep enthusiasm succeeded the indifference and half-hostility of the early nights.

A brief leisure now intervened, which was employed in visits to Naples, and to Catania, where still were the family whom he had not seen for several years. He received ovations everywhere; his operas were sung, in part or entire, in the principal theatres along his route, he was made a member of the Bourbon Academy in Naples, and at Catania the royal intendant conducted him in a state carriage, drawn by four horses, to his home. At Naples also Barbaja was waiting for him with offers for three new works to be written for San Carlo; but Bellini could not gratify him.

His stay in Sicily was short. In about a month he returned, and after pausing in several cities to direct productions of his works, he came again to Venice, in August, 1832, preparing an opera for the Fenice. Various trivial causes had raised up jealousies against him, and his libretto was unsatisfactory, because Romani had neglected work for pleasure. So when the new opera, which was "Beatrice di Tenda," was produced, on March 16, 1833, it fell flat and never afterward recovered any prominence, although it contained some excellent scenes.

But the ill success of this opera was as nothing to the triumphs of its predecessors, and it began to be apparent that Bellini must follow his music to Paris and London, where his scores were established favorites. Contracts from both had been tendered him early in 1833, and he went directly to London to produce "La Sonnambula" and "Norma." His stay there was a social as well as an artistic success, but he could not protract it, because his engagements with the Italian Opera in Paris called him thither early in 1834. His reception was most flattering, and his friends hoped that good influences would induce him to study the important department of orchestration, which he had always neglected. But Parisian fascinations and pleasures had more power over him, and he could not forget them even in the quiet residence which he had found at Puteaux, on the Seine. He set himself to work resolutely, however, and toward the end of the year it was evident that "I Puritani" would be ready early in 1835. In fact, on Jan. 25 it was given, the whole house having been bespoken long in advance. The audience was distinguished, and the triumph unqualified. A distinct advance--due perhaps more to observation than to toil--was apparent all through the work, and the French critics and connoisseurs promptly gave him credit for it.

Honors poured in upon Bellini. He was made a chevalier of the Legion of Honor, the king of Naples decorated him, and offers from managers were numerous, including one from San Carlo, naming the sum (almost preposterous for Italy) of nine thousand ducats for two operas, which was more than rich Milan would promise.

But the composer's career was to be as brief as it had been splendid. He had burned his candle at both ends. He had been unremitting in labor and unrestrained in pleasure. His constitution, not too strong, had also been shaken by the illness previously mentioned, symptoms of which reappeared early in September. No effort which care, prudence, and ability could make was spared; but on the 23d of that month, in the year 1835, he died, being a little less than thirty-four years old.

Every tribute was paid to his name and memory. A commission, including some of the greatest composers and vocalists, was appointed to arrange his obsequies, which took place in the Chapel of the Invalides, Oct. 4. The music was superb, and in spite of a furious rain, an immense crowd attended the interment at Père-la-Chaise, where memorial addresses were spoken by eminent men. Subscription raised a noble monument for him, and regret and condolence were general in the musical world. Thirty years later, the Catanians asked leave to remove his body, but it was not until September, 1876, that they were ready. Then an Italian war vessel received it, and on its arrival at Catania it was placed in the very carriage which had borne Bellini on his triumphal return. The commemoration lasted three days, and the coffin was finally deposited in the Cathedral.

Bellini was of an attractive, though not handsome, person, his face lacking strength. He belonged to the blond Italian type, and his portraits suggest almost any other European nationality as much as his own; his figure was slender and elastic; his general effect was rather that of an idealist than a practical man. His temper was generally even, his love of humor and word-play easily stirred, and his movements easy and elegant. He had his moods of despondency, and his friends remembered after his death how some sombre incidents had apparently impressed him gloomily in the last year of his life. His characteristics made him especially welcome in female society, but it may be doubted whether any woman ever really loved him well, or whether he was ever much attracted by any after his unsuccessful affair at Naples. In his profession he made friends always, and almost no enemies, for he neither felt nor provoked comparisons or jealousies. The regard he inspired was well founded, and the mourning his death caused was sincere.

* * * * *

The genius of Bellini was original and decided. Although he was impressionable, he was independent, and this was the source of his weakness as well as of his strength. For while not blind to the faults and deficiencies of his compositions, he was so firm in his knowledge of their peculiar merits that the criticisms he accepted as just could not move him to alter his methods, so that, as has already been said, his growth in art was rather a natural progression than the result of cultivation.

He entered the Conservatory at a fortunate moment, and he fell into good hands. From Tritto, Bellini got the conventional part of his education, while from Zingarelli, who was both enthusiastic and classical, a noble composer and a strong scientist, he received, on the one hand, sharp, wholesome criticism, and on the other, an ardent impulse. Most of his fellow-pupils were mediocrities, and none have been eminent except the brothers Ricci, best known by their "Crispino e la Comare," and Carlo Conti, whose many operas have had great currency in Italy.

The disposition of Bellini was primarily toward what could be musically expressed by the human voice, and all who heard his compositions were convinced that the world had received a rich new gift. Rossini was now great in fame and influence, and the brilliant vocalists of the time were revelling in his florid airs. Bellini, realizing that even the theatre demanded melody more than anything else, and feeling sure that a source of it was waking up within him, was either astute or ingenious enough not to attempt to follow the example of Rossini. He gave his melodies no less extension, but he first simplified them, and then broadened and fortified them in some situations, while in others he softened and sweetened them. He could not command pathos, profound grief, terror, menace, or tragic grandeur. Sentiment, not emotion, was his chief characteristic; but in "Norma" he rose to dignity and maintained calmness, while in "I Puritani" he became noble and strenuous. In "Il Pirata" and in "I Capuletti ed i Montecchi" there were not infrequently boldness and vigor, as the excerpts which are still heard occasionally show. In "Beatrice di Tenda" his weakest airs are found, and in "La Sonnambula" his suavity, tenderness, and appealing purity are most felt.